The Value Of Rain (21 page)

“She could never let Francois forget,” Breece added.

“Even if it meant destroying everyone around her,” Sylvia said, as she looked up at her husband.

“Yes, even then,” Breece said.

Manuel, who had stood in the corner silent and repulsed by the crone in the bed, stepped forward and took my hand. “Come back with me, now.”

“I…” I looked deep into the soft earnestness in his face, remembering the gentle smile he’d had for me; the soft touch.

“She’s dead,” Penny said. “Finally.”

“No.” It came out as a whisper, my disbelief and rage propelling me to the edge of the bed, the air around me alive with the hunger of my defeat. My mind raced with what I had endured; the locks clicking shut; the invasion of property and person; the measure of insanity driven into my brain; my utter lack of value to her, even now.

I looked at Charlotte’s calm serenity; the final thrust of her cheekbones. “Fucking bitch.”

“It’s over,” Sylvia said. “Come on,” she prodded Jarrel. “They can bury her.”

Penny and I stood over her as their footsteps receded. We did not look at each other, only at her; the sea that separated we two very distinct continents.

“There’s nothing else left here, Charles. Your hate is just wasted,” Breece said.

“She took that too,” I said. “Goddamn your soul to hell, Charlotte.”

I turned to leave and saw Manuel still waiting for me. “Go home,” I told him.

“But I want you to come with me. I’ve waited all these years…”

I took a deep breath; the dream of it was beautiful, idyllic, but the reality was… tragically wrong. “I can’t, Manuel. This, this …” I motioned at the house, my family, who knew what the fuck else. “You’d crush me, Manuel. Not meaning to, but you’d crush me just the same.”

I looked at him for a long moment. “Goodbye,” I whispered as I drew closer, offering the farewell I had denied him years before.

I stood over Robert’s grave this morning, the sun creating a blue tint as it reflected off the snow. There were three paper roses in my hand, one for him, one for Bruce, and one for Snow. There was a poem in each rose; the same poem because they were all equally a part of me. As I put the roses on the still snow I saw another face in my mind; a face I had seen only once, but one that had not left me.

That face had brought me here, to this alley, knowing that there would never be a time in my life that my love for these men would not be on the cusp of my thoughts.

He came into the alley backwards and out of breath, his neck stretched around the corner looking at something I couldn’t see. When he turned he had a smile that disappeared the moment he saw me leaning against the building.

“Been waiting for you.” I told him.

He bolted, but I was quicker, snatching him off his feet and pushing him into the brick wall just enough to daze him. “I’m not going to hurt you,” I told him. “Brought you something.”

I reached into my jacket and pulled out a paper daisy, placing it in a young hand that unfolded before he could refuse.

I pushed the hair from his eyes, cupping his head in my hand. “I have a garden full of them, if you’re interested.”

“Cost you,” he said, his eyes calculating.

I chuckled. “No. Cost you.

His eyes narrowed

“J
ust
a little rain
,
”
I told him
.

Author
’s Note
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